


speed up with our eyes closed

by thelandofnothing



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, arya hits him in the head with a football, arya is a vet, gendry is an engineer
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-17
Updated: 2019-12-17
Packaged: 2021-03-10 13:55:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,401
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21831700
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thelandofnothing/pseuds/thelandofnothing
Summary: prompt: “Gendry is reading a book in the park when Arya knocks him out with a stray football (or vice versa)”.me: deadline who?
Relationships: Arya Stark/Gendry Waters
Comments: 48
Kudos: 206
Collections: Gendrya Gift Exchange 2019





	speed up with our eyes closed

**Author's Note:**

  * For [n793](https://archiveofourown.org/users/n793/gifts).

> song title: window - joji
> 
> hope you enjoy this n793! 
> 
> this was fun and challenging for me to write because i can't really write fluff without a storyline and a touch of angst. so i hope you enjoy all the fluffiness.

**(i)**

In all seriousness, Gendry could not fathom a day more shitty than the one he was having.

First it had started at Hot Pie’s; the bakery that his childhood friend owned. Where every morning, without fail, Hot Pie would get him his normal order; a large black coffee and a toasted ham and cheese croissant. However, that particular morning, Hot Pie had been too preoccupied with a certain blond customer with a particularly low cut shirt that by the time Gendry had gotten to work he had realised that his coffee was stone cold and Hot Pie had forgotten to put any fillings in his croissant. Already being an incredibly grumpy person at heart, Gendry had resolved the mishap by sending him an angry text that Hot Pie had responded to with a bunch of emojis that showed up as question marks because he refused to update his phone.

At work, to his greatest dismay, one of the interns had jammed the only working printer which had meant he couldn’t print out a script for his presentation to the board. He had quickly tried to memorise as much as he could from his phone before going in and trying to save his air of professionalism. The meeting was diabolical, but Gendry still managed to have three of the many blazer-clad businessmen interested in his construction proposal for affordable housing in Wintertown. He had got a lashing from his boss Beric Dondarrion and the intern had managed to get away unscathed, but Gendry was left in a foul mood as he trudged off to his lunch break. Hopefully they didn’t see the mistake as a moment of weakness in his position because Gendry was starting to like Winterfell, and he definitely didn’t have the money or the effort to start looking for more jobs.

He had gotten over it by lunch, looking forward to enjoying the fresh air and a much-needed fill of a Braavosi rice bowl. He clicked up open the plastic container and dug his spoon in, savouring the combination of mint and chilli.

On his lunch break, he thought he could remedy his shitty day by reading a book; one of the only activities that he took pleasure from these days. The park was alive with activity; kids chasing one another, women in yoga pants jogging and even a couple of teenage boys sending a frisbee whirling back and forth through the air. Winterfell was beautiful in summer, in a way that was far more tolerable than the heat of King's Landing. He had only just gotten the transfer a month ago and it had taken time to acquaint himself with the parks, the coffee shops and the eateries. He was warned by Southroners about the harsh winters with the snow and the bone-chilling winds but out here in the sun, he felt just like he did back in Storm’s End. The breeze stripped of any salty bite and instead was replaced with the cleanliness that only mountain air could bring. Although his day hadn’t been the best, his mother had always taught him to be appreciative of the little things in life when the days didn’t work quite the way you wanted them. His mother would have liked Winterfell for the very same reasons; the nature and the people who were a little blunt and stony-faced but hard-working and loyal. His mother would have loved the snow and the chill, the large streets, even the accents would have enthralled her adventurous spirit. But she was back in King’s Landing, working herself to the bone as he tried to make a name for himself in corporate Westeros whilst trying not to let his anarchist tendencies slip out. 

He put his container in the bin and walked back to his park bench to take out his book, shaking himself out his thoughts. He had time for spiralling when he got home or when he had a beer with colleagues. He had an hour before he was due back for another meeting which he was sure to receive yet another scorching, so he turned to the page with his bookmark and began to read.

Before he knew what happened next, something solid hit him in the back of the head, sending him slumping off the bench.

* * *

**(ii)**

“Is he dead?” Rickon asked.

“Shut up,” Arya snapped and looked at the guy, “He’s not dead. Look, you dickhead, he’s moving.”

The dark-haired man groaned and raised his head.

“What happened?” the man asked, squinting and rubbing his scalp.

“You were the victim of a truly terrible crime…” Rickon snitched and she glared at him

“Shut up, I’m really sorry,” she began and watched as he winced, his mouth set in a straight line, “I had no idea you were sitting there, my brother and I were just kicking a football around.”

“S’alright,” he grumbled and winced as he tried to sit up.

She went to him and guided him up slowly into a sitting position, only noticing that his arms were absolutely massive and were straining the fabric of his work shirt. 

_Now is not the time, _she chastised herself, shaking the odd thought from her head.

“There’s no blood mate,” Rickon asked, patting the guy’s shoulder, “Might just have a bump.”

_Thank fuck for that. _

He opened his eyes and she was met with the most gorgeous and mesmerising pair of blue eyes she had ever seen; so startling against his tanned face and dark beard. He was beautiful and easily the most handsome man she had ever seen in her life. He looked at her for a moment too long, his eyes unblinking.

“Hi,” he said, whispering

The air became electric between them, but she couldn’t look away. Not from the intensity of his cerulean gaze and the way his eyes bore straight through her soul

“Hey,” she said, “You feeling alright?”

“Me? Yeah…” he felt his head and looked back at her, letting out a sheepish smile, “I’m better than okay.”

“You just got hit in the head with a football,” Rickon pointed out but the man didn’t look away from Arya, “I literally heard it hit your skull from halfway across the green.”

“That’s alright,” he repeated, still maintaining eye contact with her and she swallowed nervously, “I’m Gendry.”

“Arya…” she replied without hesitation, “I’m really sorry about it…”

“It’s fine, it’s seriously fine,” he laughed and ran his hands down his face, “I just need to know if I’m dreaming.” 

“What do you mean?” she asked, slightly panicking.

“Am I dreaming?” he reiterated, “You’re literally the most gorgeous woman I’ve ever seen in my life and well you knocked me out.”

She looked up at Rickon who was staring at her with a scrunched-up face. Arya masked her confusion with the same look, beginning to laugh at his rambling. 

“Do you think you can stand?” she asked, and he looked around.

“Only if you help,” he said back, and she held back a snort.

She looped a hand around his broad shoulders to steady him as he attempted to stand.

“Rickon, a little help here,” she hissed.

Her brother burst out laughing, “Sorry, sorry this is gold.”

They both managed to get him back onto the park bench.

“Are you sure you’re alright,” she asked, and he blinked, “How many fingers am I holding up.”

She stuck up seven fingers in front of his face.

“Seven,” he responded, and she huffed in relief, “You have tiny hands.”

“Yeah I do,” she replied quickly as he placed his open hand against hers, murmuring about size differences in a daze.

She stuck up a single finger and brought out her phone, turning the torch on.

“Follow my finger okay, I’m a vet but this will have to do,” she murmured to herself, hoping he didn’t fully hear her.

She checked the whites of his eyes and his pupils which were both attentive to the stimulations. She had no idea why she was feeling so guilty, she had been the girl that punched Joffrey Lannister in the nose without remorse after hearing what he did to her sister. She was the one who kicked her boxing coach, Jaqen H’Ghar in the balls after he was _definitely _making a move on her. She had literally punched, kicked and pushed over so many people without apology in her lifetime, even accidentally, but the explanation for her guilt over this particular football incident was unexplained.

“Are you seeing anyone?” he asked, his voice a little drowsy, “Because this would be really shit if you were.”

She nearly choked on her own saliva.

“Look, you’ve hit your head and you’re a bit out of it so maybe…” she was cut off when he took out his phone.

“Could I have your number?” he asked, and her brother burst out laughing.

Arya tucked a strand of hair behind her ear nervously and chose to ignore him although her heart was pounding in her chest.

“Is there someone you can call, maybe to help you out or take you to a clinic to get checked out? Or maybe just to get you some ice,” she suggested, and he looked blankly at his phone before he moved to unlock it.

“Yeah, yeah… Um, maybe… I’ll give him a call,” he shook his head and brought up a contact.

_Thank the Gods there’s barely anyone around, otherwise, so many people would be staring right now. _

Arya let him ring his contact in peace and went over to Rickon who was still laughing his arse off, putting away his phone into the back pocket of his jeans. 

“Can you believe that guy?” he wheezed, and she rolled her eyes, “Can’t get over the fact you literally have to knock out a guy to get him to be interested in you.”

“Piss off, he’s not interested in me,” she snapped and Rickon raised both hands in surrender, “I just hit him too hard in the head, once he’s better he’ll go back to being a normal person. I’d be furious if someone did that to me.”

“He’s hitting on you,” he laughed and they both heard Gendry finish up with the phone call, “Sansa’s going to have a field day with this one.”

She jabbed a threatening finger in his direction, “Tell Sansa and I will burn your football shirts.”

“Arya!” Gendry called out in a sing-song voice and she turned around, “I called my friend and he said I better go to a clinic, but he’s got work, could I get a lift?”

“Uh, yeah sure,” she said and got out her keys, “Rickon…”

“Hey, come on man. We’ll walk you to the car,” he winked in Arya’s direction, “Promise I’m not a serial killer, can’t say anything for this one though.”

He chucked an obvious thumb towards her and she rolled her eyes. 

“Oi!” she kicked him in the leg, “Football shirts.”

Rickon reached a hand around the man’s shoulders

“Arya, come on,”

She sighed and wrapped her arm around Gendry’s other side.

“You smell really lovely, has anyone ever told you that?” he told her, and she choked.

“No but thank you?” she said back, suddenly extremely awkward.

“Could I still get your number?” he asked again, and she heard Rickon chuckle.

“Let’s just get you to the clinic alright?”

“Gendry is a pretty unusual name isn’t it?” Rickon asked her as they drove from the clinic.

“Yeah I guess,” she shrugged her shoulders and slowed the brakes as they came to a red light.

“You guess? Who else do you know that’s named Gendry?”

“Yeah, yeah, you’re technically right,” she frowned as she said his name under again under her breath, something triggering an old memory, “Hey Rickon?”

Her brother looked up from his phone in the passenger seat.

“What’s up?” he asked.

“What was the name of that guy that Robb went to King’s Landing University with? You know that guy Jon was raving about meeting recently because he’s bringing him to dinner,”

Rickon scowled, also looking like he was trying to remember.

“Gary? Greg?” he tried, and she shook her head, “Fuck, I don’t know. Why?”

“No reason,” she furrowed her brows because the name _Gendry _seemed too familiar to be simply ‘unusual’.

  
  


* * *

**(iii)**

After a splash of cold water, Gendry felt something in his head click as if he were not staring through a rose-tinted filter any longer.

He had a slight headache, but the nurse had told him that it wasn’t a concussion or anything to worry about except that it’d be wise to go home from work. To his dismay, he had dinner at a friend’s house that night with their family and knowing how much his mate had persisted for him to come to Winterfell in the first place, not even a sore head would make a fitting excuse.

He went home and rested, taking some Panadol and drinking lots of water as per the nurse’s advice. He remembered the girl who had hit him; Arya. She had seemed genuinely apologetic despite her brother’s petulant teasing. She was the one who had driven him to the clinic and helped him up from the ground. As frustrated as he was with the whole ordeal, she did get him out of work for a day. She had been beautiful; thick, dark and expressive eyebrows that framed a pair of striking steel eyes. He had remembered the way her hair was tied messily behind her head and wisps of sweaty strands framed her heart-shaped face. _Gods_, it was probably the reason why he was so passive about being hit in the head, he hadn’t been so attracted to a woman in his entire life. If it had been some asshole kid who had hit him, he would have torn them a new one.

_Gods and I don’t even remember what I said to her in that park. _

He shook himself out of his thoughts and focused on getting ready, dressing in an appropriate looking pair of slacks and the only sweater he owned that didn’t have a hole in it.

Jon had warned him that his family were a bunch of drinkers, so he decided to take an Uber to the Winterfell mansion that he soon realised belonged to Ned Stark. He was the mayor of the North who had consistently made efforts to protect large parts of Northern wilderness from logging companies and had also allowed people like Gendry work in the North more easily than any other province.

He walked up to the impressive sized house, if he could call it such, the place looked more like a medieval castle than anything he had ever seen.

The door opened to reveal someone who was decidedly not Jon Snow.

“Hi, is this Jon Snow’s house?” he moved to say and then dropped his friendly façade.

Standing in front of him was the girl from the park, the one who had booted a football so hard it knocked him out. He didn’t know whether to be impressed or frustrated in his starkly realistic state if the headache that pulsed between his temples was anything to go by.

“Gendry?” she asked and something deep inside him glowed with pleasure that she remembered his name. She was a gorgeous woman, that much he remembered, “I didn’t realise… So you’re Jon’s friend.”  
  


“Yeah, yeah I am,” he laughed nervously, and he could see the lines of guilt return to her face, “And you’re…”  
  


“Jon’s sister,” she replied and shook her head, “Come in, sorry…”

"So you're... Wow okay I should have pieced that together faster, you're Arya Stark, the sister he's always talking about. You look a lot like him,"

She wordlessly pulled the door wider and he stepped through.

“Are you feeling any better?” she asked sincerely.

“Yeah, thanks for bringing me to the clinic. Everything from the park was such a daze, I’m surprised I even remembered you,” he said, and he passed her the bottle of wine, “I didn’t know what your parents liked so…”

“That’s fine, thank you,” she smiled and took the bottle from him, “So you don’t remember much from the park?”

“What?” he asked as she stared at him, “Did I say something out of line or...?”

She looked away suddenly and let out a small awkward smile.

“Jon’s in the kitchen,” she told him and turned her back, “I’ll take you.”

* * *

**(iv)**

Arya could see Rickon’s face at the end of the house. 

The little shit was trying not to laugh because Gendry was there, in the flesh, the man she had mercilessly kicked a ball at and successfully knocked out. And it was torture because how could a man look so effortlessly delicious in a pair of slacks and a dress shirt.

“So Rickon tells me you hit that snack in the head with a football,” a voice sidled up to her and she turned around to meet Theon.

“Dude piss off, you’re married to my brother,” she complained and rolled her eyes, “And Rickon was not meant to tell anyone, especially not you.”

“So apparently, he was hitting on you?” he continued, and Arya chugged her beer, “How could you turn down that tall glass of water.”

“He was in a weird daze and look! He’s fine now so exactly what I told Rickon. I just hit his head too hard,”

At that moment, Gendry looked up from talking to Jon and smiled at her, lifting his beer in what she could tell was a mocking salute.

“And he’s just smiling at you because…”

“Theon, don’t you have Robb to pester?” she asked and walked off towards the porch.

*

“What do you think of Gendry?” Jon asked her, joining her outside, “Impressive aye?”

She choked on her drink and looked at him.

“What are you suggesting?” she asked him incredulously and Jon turned to look at her with a confused expression.

“I meant what he was talking about, with his engineering,” he said, and her eyes went wide, “What did you think I was implying?”

She flicked back the remainder of her third beer of the night and tried to think of something to save her face.

“I didn’t know if you were talking about me or how rivetted Dad seemed, it’s almost like he wants to adopt him,” she smiled, and Jon threw his head back with laughter, “But yeah, it’s admirable.” 

“Gods, I know!” he smiled, the one that he always seemed to reserve for her, “And did you hear that apparently someone hit him in the head with a football?”

She looked inside the house, trying to seek out Rickon with the glare of the eyes.

“That would be me,” she crossed her arms across her chest, “And before you ask, it was an accident!”

“Are you kidding?” Jon threw his head back in laughter, “Only _you _would do something like that! How the fuck did you manage that?”

“I was in the park with Rickon and booted it too hard,” she grumbled, "He was sitting at a park bench." 

"He looks fine, don't need to worry about it. Rickon was telling me how guilty you looked. He's a tough lad Arya, and you would know if he was pissed at you," Jon elbowed her in the arm playfully, “Small world isn’t it?”

"I guess," she sighed and they drifted off into a comfortable silence. 

“I know it’s not very big brotherly of me, but what if I got his number for you,” he said, and Arya stared at him wide-eyed, “No? I just thought with you looking at him every other second…”

“I’m not looking at him,” she told her brother firmly and forcefully told herself not to look in the direction of the house anymore.

She heard Jon laugh.

“Yeah, well tell that to him,”

She looked up suddenly to catch Gendry’s watching her from the living room as he quickly ducked his head and turned away.

*

“Hey,” she heard his voice as she wiped down the dining table.

She looked and watched him lean against the wall.

“Hi,” she raised a single eyebrow and continued her chore.

“Dinner was good,” he commented, and she could feel him come closer in the corner of her eye, “Your mum does a good roast.”

“That she does,” she smiled and headed to the kitchen, watching him trail after her.

“So, Rickon was it? The younger brother at the park?” he confirmed, and she nodded, “He showed me a pretty interesting recording.”

Her heart started to ricochet in her chest.

“Apparently, I was pretty off my face, so yeah, sorry about… What I said and all that,” he scratched the back of his neck, “And I’m sorry if this comes off a little forward… But do you actually mind if get that number of yours.”

She looked up at him incredulously, as if she didn’t hear him quite right.

“My number?” she asked, pointing at her own chest.

“Yeah, I mean you don’t have to of course…”

“Give me your phone,” she said, and he looked at her for a moment until he scrambled for his phone in the back pocket of his pants.

She typed in her contact and called him.

“There, you’ve got mine,” she smiled up at him, ‘I’m not free this week but I can do Saturday night.”

He spluttered for a moment until he seemed to regain some ounce of his control.

“Saturday is great,” he whispered, and she noticed that the house was dark and devoid of its usual Stark chatter. She could hear Jon snoring on the couch and her father had managed to drunkenly carry her mother up the stairs. Her family seemed to be quietly notorious at drinking an excessive amount of alcohol in a painfully classy manner and she had noticed that Gendry himself had drunk very little. She, herself, had stopped by the third beer after Jon had told her that Gendry was looking at her. The thought of him even being remotely interested in her without the daze of being knocked out sent butterflies fluttering around in the cavern of her stomach. 

She knew she was staring, and that it was bad to stare but she couldn’t quite help it when Gendry was looking down at her just as intensely. Without thinking, she flicked off the lights and shrouded them both in darkness. 

“Could I kiss you?” she asked suddenly, her voice softer than the blood that roared in her ears.

He smiled and moved closer to her.

“Yeah,” he breathed out as he got closer still, cornering her against the kitchen island, “Yeah you can.”

She leaned up and draped her hands on his shoulders. Their lips met, the distance between them disappearing in a haze of mutual certainty. He wasn’t the gentle sort, she could feel it as he nipped her lips and tilted his head to make her chase his lips. One of his hands tangled into her hair and they pushed further against each other. It felt right, being there with him, in the dark of her kitchen even though she barely knew him. That would change, hopefully. 

“I fucking knew it!” she suddenly heard a voice hiss and she pulled away, catching her brother’s figure behind the door that separated the kitchen and the living room.

“Rickon Stark I’m going to bloody _kill_ you,” she gritted her teeth and stalked towards her brother who ran away at the speed of light up the stairs.

She heard Gendry laugh behind her and she turned to see him fixing his hair.

“It’s alright isn’t it?” he said, and she sighed, "Them knowing?" 

“Yeah I guess it is,” she looked at the time on the oven clock, “Should I call you an Uber?”

He shook his head and put a hand on her waist.

“I’ll be alright,” he smiled and moved down to cup her cheek, kissing her sweet and short, “So Saturday?”

“Saturday,” she smiled.

* * *

**(v)**

“How did you two meet?” the woman next to him gestured to him and Arya.

It was the annual dinner gala at his firm and five months ago he was surely convinced he would have been going alone. But looking to his left to the woman on his arm, he knew how damn lucky he was. He grinned. He absolutely loved telling the tale of their meeting even though he was usually grumpy and had no interest in talking to most people. This, however, was worth the social interaction. Because he had Arya and he had a job that was going well, so finally, just finally the Gods had done one thing right.

“Well it’s a great story,” he said, as formally as he could possibly muster 

“I hit him in the head with a football in the park and knocked him out,” she said for him with a groan and the woman’s eyebrows disappeared into her hairline.

“She’s forgiven because she’s such a knockout,” he bumped his hip into Arya’s.

“Well…” the woman smiled awkwardly, “That is some first meeting.”

She sauntered off and Gendry burst out laughing and wrapped an arm around Arya’s waist.

“That’s one way to scare them off,” she said, chuckling against his neck.

He turned to her, giddy from the champagne and from being there with _her. _He could brave ten thousand of these ridiculous balls just to see Arya in her sleek black jumpsuit and impressively tall high heels again.

“Stop staring idiot,” she hissed playfully and moved closer into his side, running her hand down the lapels of his suit jacket. 

“Says you,” he raised an eyebrow and she pressed a kiss to his cheek.

“Now that you’ve successfully scared every middle-aged woman you’ve come into contact with…” she trailed a finger across his bearded jaw, “You going to take me home Waters?”

He smirked and captured the finger between his teeth lightly. 

"Got plans do you Stark?" he teased and watched her eyes grow dark. 

Suddenly, she pulled away and turned towards the exit. Looking over her shoulder, she gave him a wicked smile. 

"You keep that up, I'll find a football and we both know what happens next," 

He rolled his eyes and let out a chuckle, finishing off his flute of champagne and following her out of the throng of people. 


End file.
